


The Runaway Bride

by diemdoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8893477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemdoll/pseuds/diemdoll
Summary: "Granger, Granger, Granger,” Draco sang, seemingly quite pleased with himself, “You've gone and made yourself famous again. The prophets are calling you the runaway bride."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!

::

 

  
“Who’s there?”

 

Hermione knew it was a simple enough question, but that didn’t stop her response from getting caught in the back of her throat the moment she opened her mouth to offer one.

 

“If you’re a solicitor you can shove right off; I’m not interested in whatever potions you’re hawking this month,” The irritated voice on the other side of the door announced. “I can still see your shadow. Shove. _Off_.” The witch commanded after a few more seconds of silence.

 

Hermione knew she should take that advice, as sound as it was, but she found herself knocking on the door again all the same.

 

There was cursing on the other side of the door following by a long, and rather drawn out, sigh. "For Merlin's sake." The witch breathed out angrily.

 

Hermione hardly had time to react to the sounds of the locks on the door turning before it was swung open and she was face to face with a witch who looked every inch as aggravated as she had sounded through the door.

 

"Absolutely not," The witch laughed after her apparent shock wore off. "Go. Away."

 

She shut the door on Hermione before the brown haired witch had a chance to give her the speech she had practiced the night before.

 

"Pansy," Hermione pleaded, tapping her hand against the black colored door, "Hear me out." She pressed her ear against the door and listened for any sounds on the other side of it. Knowing Pansy, she might have stalked off to another room the moment the door closed. "I just need a minute. I've got nowhere else to go."

 

"Nowhere to go? You could start with your honeymoon for one," Pansy snorted. "I know what yesterday was, Granger. Your lot has had adverts running in the prophets for weeks now! What little name did they give your union again? Something dastardly if I recall."

 

Pansy paused for a moment before letting out another shrill laugh at Hermione's expense. "Nothing to say to that, Granger?" Pansy taunted, "Cat got your---"

 

“I called it off.” Hermione admitted as her skin heated. She could hear the gasps from the nosey neighbors who had been watching her from their stations behind their peepholes for the last fifteen minutes.

 

“Called it off or ran off?”  Hermione was certain she knew exactly what expression was on Pansy's face despite the door that divided them.

 

“Which one would get you to open the door faster?” Hermione responded as she leaned her forehead against the door. “I--” Her sentence was cut short as the door was pulled open without warning and she was sent tumbling to her knees.

 

“I see you’ve already invited yourself in,” Pansy noted sarcastically, “Do get off your knees before the neighbors call the M.L.E. on you. They probably think you’re a beggar.” Pansy looked at Hermione from underneath her eyelashes, “For obvious reasons, of course.”

 

Hermione stood to her feet. “Thank you, Pansy. It's--”

 

Pansy waved her off dismissively. “I should have known _you_ of all people would show up today,” She started as she shut the door and led them to the kitchen, “I broke a mirror last night and was hoping I’d only get seven years of bad luck, but trust the fates to bring you in as my punishment instead.” Pansy looked darkly at Hermione, but her eyes held no real malice. “Take a seat, Granger.”

 

Pansy stood up on her tiptoes and reached for two pink mugs and a bottle of something Hermione had no interest in. Pansy quirked her eyebrow at Hermione as she uncapped the bottle of whiskey and poured a generous amount of it into one of the mugs.

 

“Are you really going to start drinking this early?” Hermione asked primly. A distant part of her knew she had no business being judgemental given her current predicament, but that didn’t stop her from scrunching up her nose in distaste all the same.

 

Pansy laughed as she poured coffee into both mugs. “I’ve got a runaway muggle in the middle of my kitchen, of course I’m going to drink,” She answered as she topped the coffee with thick cream. She rolled her eyes at the look on Hermione’s face. “This is nothing to get your knickers in a twist about, Granger. It’s only an Irish coffee, I promise.”

 

“You’re not even Irish, Pansy.”

 

"And that's a bloody shame because they've really got the right idea about so many of their meals," She hummed over the top of her mug, "If you go home you can have Weasley cook you up something boring that might fit your prim tastes better. But you can't go home, can you?" She smirked, tilting her head to the side, "How exactly did the golden girl end up in _my_ flat insulting _my_ breakfast instead of on _her_ honeymoon?"

 

Hermione stalled, unsure of how to answer. She chewed on her bottom lip and reached for the mug across from her, tightening her fingers around the outside of the mug as she got stuck in her own thoughts.

 

"I need a favor." Hermione said finally, staring down at the swirling brown liquid in her coffee mug. She didn't feel brazen enough to claim that it would be a small one. "I need a place to stay...for only a bit until I get things situated."

 

"You know, Granger, I pegged you for a lot of things: a know-it-all, a blushing virgin, the biggest swot of our generation." She let her voice trail off as she ticked off a finger for each thing she listed. "But never as someone who'd just up and run off like you have. You're just chock full of surprises, aren't you?" Pansy said almost appreciatively.

 

Hermione shook her head quickly. "I didn't run off," She denied as a telling blush swept across her pale cheeks. "He knows that...I told them I needed some space."

 

“Space?” Pansy parroted blankly.

 

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, “To figure things out.”

 

"And what?" Pansy laughed darkly, "You got it in your mind that you could do that here with me of all people? Honestly, Granger, you need to go home." Pansy slid off of the barstool and waved her hand towards the door as if the motion would send the witch flying towards it. "My flat isn't the place where you can take your summer hols when you're feeling adventurous. You remember how well that went for you the summer after our eighth year, yeah?"

 

"That's not fair, Pansy, that was.." Hermione shook her head as she tried, and failed, to find the right words. She didn't often think about that summer--she usually tried not to. "This is different." She told her as confidently as she could.

 

Pansy looked at the witch in front of her skeptically. “You sure that’s not why you’re here?” She asked with a quirk of her eyebrow, “Because I think you want another taste of freedom before you go running back to your boring little life just like you did two years ago.”

 

“I’m not--” Hermione stopped when she heard her voice getting louder than she intended. She cleared her throat before settling her fingers back around the outside of her coffee mug. “This is different. I called off a wedding, Pans. There isn’t any going back from that.”

 

“Where there's a will, and a witch willing to settle, there’s always been a way. You should know that better than anyone by now,” She replied smugly, “I do have to wonder if you’re not here just for--” Pansy stalled at the sound of the door handle jiggling.

 

She cursed to herself before grabbing her coffee mug and pouring its contents down the sink. “Not a word about this.” She warned as she turned on the tap to drain the dark liquid completely.

 

The door swung open, revealing a dark-skinned witch with a bright smile and an even brighter sun dress.

 

The witch looked between the two of them curiously as she hung her loose fitting cardigan on the coat rack next to the door. “I didn’t know we had company.”

 

“We don’t,” Pansy assured the witch by the door, “She’s a...solicitor.”

 

“A solicitor?” The witch repeated as she took off her straw brimmed hat and shook out her thick curly black hair. “You invite them in now? I thought you were all about threatening to hex their bits off, not inviting them in for a cuppa.” She looked patiently at Pansy and rolled her eyes when the witch merely shrugged in response.

 

The witch turned towards Hermione. “You’re a solicitor?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione responded, though it sounded more like a question than a definite answer. “Well, no, actually,” She admitted with a nervous laugh as the witch stared at her unblinkingly, “Pansy and I went to school together... a few years ago.”

 

The witch turned to look at Pansy. “You’re lying _and_ hiding your friends from me now?” She asked with her hands set firmly on her hips and her head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

 

“She’s hardly a friend, Louisa.” Pansy sighed in frustration. She groaned when she realized there was no convincing the witch of otherwise. “Fine, Hermione this is my girlfriend Louisa, “ She said as if it pained her, “And Lou, this is Hermione who was actually just leaving before you opened the door.” She smiled at her girlfriend who didn’t look the least bit convinced.

 

“Don’t rush her out all because of me, Pansy.” Louisa told her as she walked towards the two witches. She dodged a hug from Pansy before settling into the seat she had left vacant. “I know your name..why do I know it?” Louisa tapped her chin with her index finger as she looked Hermione over.

 

“Because it's been plastered all over the papers for weeks now?” Pansy offered helpfully as she dug into the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of grapes. She looked disinterestedly between the two witches before popping one of the grapes in her mouth. “She’s one-half of the royal wedding.”  

 

Louisa’s jaw dropped. “Oh my Merlin! I’ve been obsessing over the gossip columns write-ups about you and your dress for weeks!” She breathed out excitedly, “I know there’s been some pushback against you going for a muggle dress, but I think it’s fantastic that you’re honoring your heritage.”

 

“Do muggles have return policies or is that a wizarding thing?” Pansy asked innocently as she ate another grape.

 

“Why would she need to return her dress?” Louisa looked towards Pansy who motioned towards Hermione impassively, “Have they pressured you into getting a dress robe? Honestly, what’s the big deal about breaking tradition? Pansy and I have been doing it for a year now!”

 

Pansy stuck out her tongue. “Don’t compare us to her, Lou.”

 

“What’s with you?” Louisa frowned as she turned towards Pansy.

 

“There’s no need for a dress because I’m not getting married.” Hermione cut in. She gave Louisa a small smile before dropping her eyes to the granite top of the kitchen island. “I called it off.”

 

“Ran off,” Pansy amended for her. “She wants to stay here with us while she figures it out,” She laughed as if she were telling a joke, “Before you walked in I was telling her that she needs to--”

 

“Stay here,” Louisa interrupted with a confident nod of her head, “For as long as she wants to obviously.”

 

“Like hell she is!” Pansy set down the bowl of grapes and looked seriously at Louisa. “Aren’t you the one who cautions me against taking in strays?”

 

“You’re comparing this to that feral kneazle you found roaming around Diagon Alley?” Louisa laughed, “You’re being ridiculous about this, Pans, and you know it. Are you really going to turn away someone who needs a place to stay?” Louisa turned towards Pansy as if she were daring the witch to affirm her suspicions.

 

“She has a place,” Pansy answered defiantly, “With a little picket fence and red headed monster that guards it, I assure you. Please, Louisa, don’t be a bloody bleeding heart about this. Just let her go home like she really wants to!” Pansy gave one last look at both witches before leaving the room altogether.

 

"Full of dramatics, that one. I think she'd gotten her way for years before she met me, and it's finally dawning on her that that's not the way the real world works, at least not one with me in it." Louisa explained without seeming overly bothered. "As you can tell, she's still getting used to the idea, but, regardless, don't mind her an inch. You can stay here with us until you're on your feet." She looked down at Hermione's feet before looking back up at her. "Where are all of your things?"

 

"Back at my flat," Hermione grimaced, "Pansy was right, I didn't think any of this through." She said in a small voice.

 

"Don't let her hear you say that. I made that mistake once, and she's still reminding me of it," Louisa smiled as she slid off of the barstool and motioned for Hermione to follow her down the hall. "I'll have Pansy go with you to get some things..when you're ready, of course. Until then, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

 

She looked back at Hermione to make sure she was behind her.

 

"We've got two free rooms, and usually I'd let you have your pick of them, but Pansy has a friend who's taken a liking to popping in and out unannounced whenever he's drunk off his arse or avoiding his mother, so I'll have to put you up in the one across from the loo."

 

Hermione followed Louisa down the hallway, listening absently as the witch pointed out the different rooms on the floor.

 

“I hope it’s alright.” Louisa looked over her shoulder to Hermione as they stepped into the middle of the bedroom. “It doesn’t have its own loo, but it’s a nice size. The sheets are fresh but if they're not to your liking we have some extra in the linen closet down the hall.”

 

“It’s great.” Hermione assured her. The room was just as opulent as Hermione remembered it being two years ago, though the colors and decor had changed slightly over that time.

 

Louisa clapped her hands together in relief. "Good! I'll leave you to it then. I'm going to make a run to Diagon Alley, but I'll have Pansy check on you in a few, okay?"

 

Hermione nodded her head and watched as Louisa left the room, closing the door behind her with one last smile. Hermione wondered if the witch knew she needed some privacy after the last few weeks she had or if she simply closed the door without thinking.

 

Either way, Hermione was grateful she had closed it because she wouldn't have done so herself for fear of them thinking she was sitting on the bed sobbing like some adolescent.

 

She had done enough of that yesterday, and the day before that, and all the ones before that, she told herself as she crawled onto the bed. She was just exhausted now, and it showed in the way her eyes closed the moment her head hit the pillow.

 

::

 

Hermione didn't know she had fallen asleep until she woke up to the sound of Pansy's voice hours later.

 

"What?" She asked groggily, slapping her hand against her eyes to block the harsh lights from filtering past her eyelids.  "What's so funny?" Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know what had Pansy falling into near hysterics, especially since the witch seemed to be laughing at her and not something else.

 

"That bush on the top of your head looks just like the kneazle I wanted to keep last month. I'll have to ask Lou what she finds so charming about you that she didn't see in it." She used her knuckle to brush a tear from the corner of her eye. “Get a move on, Granger, before Louisa has both our heads."

 

"Where are we going?" Hermione was distantly aware that she was whining, but she didn't care. She wanted nothing more than to fall back against the pillows and sleep some more. She groaned as Pansy grabbed at her forearms and pulled her upright in bed. "Can't it wait?" She asked, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed despite her question.

 

"Louisa made dinner," Pansy explained simply as Hermione pulled herself up to her feet and smoothed down her wrinkled clothes. "I told her you could scavenge for your own food, but the woman has taken a liking to you for whatever reason." She looked back at Hermione as they descended the stairs, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Again, I'll have to ask her about your appeal."

 

"I hope Pansy woke you up gently," Louisa said as she noticed the two witches standing by the kitchen island. She looked sternly at Pansy who nodded her head dutifully.

 

"I told her her hair reminds me of something I'm quite fond of so I would say that I was on my best behavior just as you instructed." Pansy smiled as she pulled out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator.

 

"So you were an arse?" Louisa asked with a roll of her eyes. "She really means no harm with most of the things she says."  

 

"I'm used to Pansy's many...quirks," Hermione told Lou as she helped the witch set out the plates. "I've known her for long enough to know when she's serious and when she's not. She looks a lot more sour when she's being serious. Otherwise, she just looks like that." Hermione nodded her head over to Pansy who was staring at her threateningly.

 

"It's the only child syndrome I suppose." Louisa laughed over Pansy's sigh of annoyance. "Isn't it a shame that the wizarding world's greatest secret is that--"

 

Pansy hushed Louisa by placing a kiss on the side of her neck. "Let's all stop talking," She suggested as she poured more wine into her glass. "The last thing I need is for the two of you to bond, and I end up with a squatter in my guest room."

 

"It's far too late for that, love." Louisa grinned, winking in Hermione's direction. "You shouldn't have introduced me to her if you didn't want me to like her."

 

"You made me, Louisa," Pansy reminded her before she took a generous drink of wine. "This is why I don't like listening to you."

 

Hermione laughed over the top of the wine glass Pansy had given her. She smiled at the sight of the two arguing witches across from her, though her heart hurt for reasons she didn't want to think about.

 

"You two are good together," She said suddenly, "I guess opposites really do attract after all."

 

Pansy shrugged. "You and Weasley were a pair of opposites yourselves," She said as she poured more wine into her glass. She studied Hermione for a moment before turning her attention to the appetizers Louisa had put on the counter. "What exactly pulled you apart?"

 

"None of your business, Pansy." Louisa whispered, slapping the witch's hand away from the plate of asparagus.

 

"What do you mean it's none of my business?" Pansy asked, her brows furrowing. "Don't you think I deserve to know what kind of monster is sleeping down the hall from me?" She tipped her glass at Hermione with a small smirk tugging at her lips.

 

Louisa pulled Pansy's wine glass from her hand and drained it down the sink. "You've ruined dinner before the food is even out of the oven. Are you happy, Pansy?"

 

Pansy used her wand to summon another wine glass. "Don't be dramatic, Lou; it doesn't suit you." She tried to wrap her arms around Louisa, but the other witch shrugged her off. "Are you really--"

 

"I read a book," Hermione all but yelled over Pansy. Her cheeks reddened under the weight of the stares the other two witches were sending her way. They were no longer focused on each other, but on her. "And you know how I am, Pans…I read it cover to cover and over and over again until I had it memorized. And when I read it a final time I just...knew."

 

Pansy opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "You broke off your engagement because of a book?" She asked as an uncharacteristic smile slowly spread across her face. She shook her head in disbelief when Hermione didn't offer a denial.  "You silly bint."

 

"Pansy!" Louisa admonished, throwing both hands into the air.

 

"What?" Pansy shrugged, bringing the wine glass to her lips to hide her smile. "I meant it lovingly, Louisa." She promised, "The news that Weasley's intended left him because she's a bookworm with an epiphany warms my cold dark heart immensely." She said more seriously than the situation called for.

 

"Thank Merlin." Louisa said as the timer to the oven dinged behind her. She reached for her wand and used her magic to take the hot pan out of the oven. "Dinner is ready." She said gratefully, "Let's talk about something else now."

 

"Fine," Pansy shrugged as Louisa set the food in front of them. She ran her fingers through her shoulder length black hair and grinned. "Anyone read any good books lately?"

 

::

 

It wasn't until hours later that Hermione found herself in the quiet of her room again. She could still hear Pansy and Louisa downstairs, the two most likely rummaging through the cabinets for a late night snack if the sound of the cabinets opening and slamming shut was any indication of their activities.

 

It wasn't until Hermione heard the sound of muffled cursing outside her door minutes later that she realized something wasn't right. She quickly shot up in bed and kicked the covers off of her legs, standing to her feet just in time for the door to swing open.

 

"Pansy?" Hermione whispered as the light flooded in from the hallway into her dark room.

 

It clearly wasn't Pansy, Hermione realized as the light from the hall streamed in. Whoever it was was far too tall and broad to be the short statured Pansy Parkinson unless the witch was having a go at her, something Hermione doubted Louisa would allow.

 

Hermione took one step back when the person in front of her took one forwards. He was saying nothing to her, just swaying back and forth on his feet. She looked to her bed for her wand but realized she had forgotten it downstairs in the living room.

 

"What're you doing here?" He asked her, taking another step forward.

 

Hermione screamed before she had any real reason to. The sound was enough to wake up Pansy and Louisa who came bounding up the stairs and down the hall as soon as they heard.

 

Louisa turned on the lights and sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she surveyed the scene. "Your stray has scared Hermione, Pansy." Louisa pointed towards the inebriated wizard who was using one of the posts on the four poster bed to stay upright.

 

"Malfoy?" Hermione balked.

 

"Yes, well, he's never been much of a people person, sober or drunk as it turns out." Pansy joked, though Louisa didn't seem the least bit amused, "Let's go, Draco. Your room is across the way." She reminded him sternly.

 

"Why is Granger sleeping in my bed?" He asked quietly, turning his head to look at Pansy. His confusion seemed to wear off rather quickly as he dissolved into laughter shortly after. Draco jabbed a finger in Hermione's direction, still laughing as if she were the punchline to a joke he had just been told. "I've read about you in the prophets this morning, didn't I?"

 

Hermione stared at him tight lipped and unmoving.

 

Pansy groaned. "Leave Louisa's muggleborn be, Draco." She pleaded she tugged him towards the door.

 

He easily shrugged her off and turned back to look at Hermione.

 

"Granger, Granger, Granger,” Draco sang, seemingly quite pleased with himself, “You've gone and made yourself famous again. The prophets are calling you the runaway bride."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been (almost!!!) two months since I updated this. Eeep! Hopefully this update will make up for it a little bit :). I hope you enjoy x

::

 

“I hope she’s not crying into the good washcloths.” Pansy leaned her ear against the washroom door. “ _What_? You know they cost me a small fortune. They’re embroidered.” She crossed her arms over her chest and watched as Louisa knocked timidly on the door. “Merlin only knows if you can scourgify sadness out of Egyptian cotton.” 

 

“Can you be tolerable for one second?” Louisa asked despite already knowing the answer. She pointed her finger at the closed washroom door at the sound of movement on the other side. “That’s the faucet!” She whispered, “She’s washing her hands.”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes. 

 

The faucet had been turning on and off for the last ten minutes, and she wasn’t convinced the witch on the other side was doing anything other than masking the sound of her crying. 

 

“Move over; we’re not going to stand outside of the door all morning. I’d like to drink my tea while it’s still warm, thank you.” Pansy twisted the door handle and sighed before she balled her hand into a fist and banged on the closed door. “Granger, open the door. Honestly, you’ve always been a bit of a social pariah, so has anything _truly_ changed?” 

 

Louisa swatted Pansy’s arm and pushed her out of the way. “Hermione, it was only in one prophet.” She sent Pansy a look when the witch opened her mouth to object. “And it was all the way on the third page!” Another look towards Pansy. “And, really, does it even matter what--”

 

The door swung open, and Hermione stepped out. She looked like she had seen better days--a fact that Pansy was wearing quite clearly all across her face. 

 

“You’re looking--” Pansy squinted her eyes and dragged them from the top of Hermione’s messy hair to her slipper-clad feet.  “--Well?” 

 

“Let me see it.” Hermione stuck out one of her hands and used the other to swipe back pieces of brown frizz that had escaped the mass of curls piled on the top of her head.

 

“We don’t have it.” Louisa said unconvincingly. 

 

“Where is it?” Hermione asked, turning her attention towards Pansy who, for her part, was looking at her like she didn’t have the faintest clue what she was going on about. “The prophet,” Hermione clarified with a humph, “I want to read what they wrote.” And find out what exactly she was going home to when she finally decided to do so.

 

Pansy looked at her skeptically. “You don’t have the skin for it,” Pansy told her honestly, “And I won’t have you crying all over perfectly good toast all because you think you do. Now, can we all, _please_ , head down to breakfast?” Her stomach rumbled as if on cue. “Do you see what you two are doing to me? I’m starving in my own house.” She pointed her finger accusingly at the both of them before turning to walk down the hall to the stairs. 

 

Pansy stopped in her tracks at the sound of slamming cabinets and the chorus of muffled curse words. 

 

Louisa narrowed her eyes at Pansy’s back. “That can’t possibly be who I think it is, can it?” She took Pansy’s silence as an answer. “I thought you said you put him out last night!” 

 

“And _I_   thought I’d get to eat breakfast without casting one of those warming spells all over the food. It turns out, Louisa, that we are both deeply disappointed right now.” Pansy quickly walked down the hall and descended the stairs at the end with Louisa and Hermione following just after her. 

 

“No, hands off!” Louisa rushed over to Draco the moment she rounded the corner of the kitchen. He was sitting at one of the barstools drinking from a yellow mug that had the letter ‘L’ painted on the outside in swirling red lettering. She tugged it from his hands and swatted him away when he made to pull it back. 

 

She brought the mug to her nose and sniffed it, making a face when the smell assaulted her senses. “He’s already found the pepper up potion.” She looked towards Pansy as if she just knew the witch had left it out for him. “I was hoping to make him suffer a bit.” She set the mug down back in front of Draco. “Finish it before you get sick all over the kitchen.” 

 

“Good morning to you too, Lou.” Draco drawled. He ignored the look of exasperation Louisa was sending him in favor of the newspaper lying in front of him. He trailed his finger down the front page until he found a section that interested him the most. “Granger, you must have really pissed someone off over at the Daily Prophet. I’ve seen more sympathetic articles written about accused murderers.”

 

“It’s on the first page?” Hermione blanched, “What does it say?” She reached for the prophet, but he held it away from her, tutting at her as if he disapproved. 

 

“Manners,” He chided before returning his eyes to the prophet, “Sources say that the runaway bride, also known as Hermione Granger, has holed herself up in an undisclosed location with the mystery man she left her fiancee for. The affair, according to our well-placed sources, has been going on for a number of months, leaving beloved auror, Ronald Weasley, shocked and heartbroken. The affair, and subsequent fallout, has left the rest of us wondering who exactly Hermione Granger really is and how she had us fooled for all of these years.” 

 

A tense silence fell over the room, broken only by the clank of the coffee mug Draco set back down on the counter. Louisa looked over towards Hermione, unsure of what to do or say. 

 

She cleared her throat. “Obviously, this is complete rubbish. No one with a single brain cell would ever believe--” 

 

“Why don’t you go stay with your lover?” Pansy interrupted, throwing her hands in the air, “Surely he has a summer estate you could hide out in?”

 

“Not likely. Weasley barely had a broom to his name for years, do you really think she’d even know where to find someone who had a summer property?” Draco chimed in. 

 

Louisa grabbed the prophet off of the counter top, rolled it up, and swatted both Draco and Pansy over the head with it. “Is it too much to ask that you two be nice?” She pointed the rolled up prophet threateningly at the two of them. 

 

“Being nice has never suited me,” Pansy retorted as she tugged the prophet out of Louisa’s hands, “I bet Skeeter wrote this one. You know she loathes you nearly as much as I do.” Her eyes scanned the front page until she found the author’s name just below the pictures of Hermione. “Even better,” Pansy snorted, “Cormac Mclaggen.” 

 

“That wanker.” Hermione growled. The last time she heard that name she was the one saying it and, if she remembered correctly, it was laced in between a few choice, and colorful, words. 

 

Hermione reached for the prophet in Pansy’s hand, but it was Louisa who managed to get to it first. The dark-skinned witch walked to the rubbish bin and threw the prophet in it, dusting off her hands to show the finality of her actions. 

 

“Everyone. Sit.” Louisa commanded, pointing to the empty stools around Draco. She was small in stature, but that didn’t stop the witch from being intimidating. “There’s hash browns on the stove. And yes, Pansy, you’ll need to cast a warming spell over the eggs.” 

 

Pansy mumbled something unintelligible before waving her wand over the food. “It’s not going to taste the same.” She complained. 

 

“Then you should eat quickly before you can spot the difference.” Louisa picked up her knife and used it to spread butter across a piece of toast. “The three of you met at Hogwarts, yes?” She asked, “Were you mates in school?”

 

Pansy choked on her tea and coughed until her face turned an awful shade of red. 

 

“Not at first, no...but eventually.” Hermione answered over the sound of Pansy’s wheezing. “We became...friendly with each other after going back to the castle for our eighth year.” She thought about it for a moment longer and found that she couldn’t quite remember when she and Pansy, and Malfoy to a much lesser extent, had become friendly with each other. They just had. “Becoming friends came later I think.”

 

“Much later,” Pansy added after her coughing died down, “Though, some of us ended up becoming more friendly with each other than with others.” She looked pointedly at Hermione. “I think that’s a long enough walk down memory lane. Draco and I have to eat quickly; we’re heading off to Diagon Alley in..what did we say, Draco? Half an hour?” 

 

Louisa raised her eyebrows. “Did you make these plans before or after you told me he had already left?”

 

“After?” Pansy said, trying to gauge Louisa’s reaction. She quickly found that was not the right answer. “No, actually, it was definitely before. Hours, maybe even weeks before now that I’m thinking about it.” She smiled and leaned over to press a kiss against Louisa’s cheek, delighting in the fact that her girlfriend couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at her lips even though she was cross with her. “We’ll be back for your game night, promise.” 

 

“Make sure you take Hermione.” 

 

“I don’t mind staying here.” Hermione interjected quickly. In fact, she would prefer it with all things considered. 

 

“Did you hear that?” Pansy pointed her fork over at Hermione. “She wants to stay.” 

 

“Which is why she’s not. It’ll be good for you to get out of the flat if only for a little while, Hermione.”

 

“For Merlin’s sake, don’t treat her like she’s a recluse who’s been living with us for months. It’s been one day; I’m sure she’ll be fine, though if it is such a concern why don’t you take her with you to work? I’m almost positive that it’s take your Muggle-born to work day somewhere in the world.” 

 

Pansy knew the look on Louisa’s face all too well. “I’m serious, Lou. If she's going anywhere, it's with you.”

 

::

"Keep up, Granger." Pansy grumbled.   
  


“You know, if you’re trying to be inconspicuous, you’re failing miserably.” Draco watched as Hermione pulled her sweater tightly around her body as if the action would make her invisible. “No one would even notice you if you would act like a normal witch.” 

 

Pansy snorted from in front of them.

 

“They’re all staring at me.” Hermione whispered furiously. 

 

“Because you’re whispering like a lunatic,” Pansy responded, “And maybe, just maybe, if you were to take this off--” She pulled Hermione’s hood off of her head and gasped dramatically, “Did you even try with your hair today, Granger? I don’t know which one makes you stand out more.” 

 

Hermione pulled back on her hood. “It’s the humidity,” She explained, “Can you just grab whatever you need so we can head back?”

 

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you acting so skittish for? Didn’t you say you didn’t care what rubbish the prophets printed about you?” 

 

And she didn’t or, at least, not really. Rita Skeeter had printed much worse about her when she was far younger, and she hadn’t cared much then... but, then again, that was when she had nothing to lose. Now she had her reputation and career to think about.

 

“I don’t, _but_ \--”

 

“Fantastic, I’m going to ask the shopkeeper for a recommendation. Don’t loiter around one place for too long. You look suspicious enough as is,” Pansy advised her, “And Draco,” She added from over her left shoulder, “Don’t let the runaway get too close to doors..she’s been known to bolt.”  

 

”Is that how you got away from Weasley? He left a door unlocked, and you finally made your escape?” Draco picked up a ball from one of the nearby shelves and tossed it from one hand to the other. “I’m surprised he didn’t report you as missing before he ran to the prophets.” 

 

“He didn’t run to the prophets.”

 

“Some of them, the Daily Prophet especially, know about the inner workings of your relationship too well to not have a direct source, don’t you think?” She looked at him, wondering just how many prophets he had read on the matter and why. “Overworked Ronald Weasley comes home to a perpetually uninterested and distant fiancee who would rather find companionship in books rather than in her soon to be husband.” 

 

“That isn’t how our relationship--” She stopped herself. She didn’t have to explain anything to him at all. “Why do you care, Malfoy?” 

 

“I don’t,” He said as he followed her to another section of the store. “Consider it polite conversation.”

 

“Nothing about you is polite,” Hermione reminded him, “You and Pansy share that quality.” 

 

He hummed to himself. “That must be why we never worked out.” 

 

“Yes, I’m sure _that’s_ the reason.” She snorted. 

 

Hermione walked around the store for a few minutes, picking up random items, turning them over in her hands, and then placing them back on the shelving. No matter where she went, Malfoy was never too far behind her. It was as if he truly believed she was going to make a run for the door if he took his eyes off of her for too long. 

 

“You don’t have to follow me.” She huffed in annoyance. 

 

“It’s not you I’m interested in, Granger. I’m looking for a book.” He answered as he pulled a book from a nearby shelf and pressed it against his chest as if he didn’t want her to see the title. 

She bit her lip to keep her curiosity from getting the best of her. “What’s that?”

 

He turned to her, grinning in a way that made her scrunch her nose. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He tipped his head towards the book in her hands.

 

She looked at him exasperatedly. “It’s a book on the origin of magic. I suppose it traces magic as we know it back to its roots in Africa.” She told him, showing him the cover of the book before holding it at her side. “What’s yours on?”

 

“Something far more interesting than that, I assure you.” He said as he tucked the book under his arm. “What?” He hummed innocently when she stared at him in astonishment. “ You should know better than to show your hand first. You’ve gone and lost all your leverage.” 

 

“You’re such an annoying git, Malfoy.” Hermione turned around and pushed her book back into its rightful spot on the bookshelf.

 

"What book do you have now?" 

 

"Do you really think I'm going to fall for that again?" 

 

She turned around to face him, set on glaring at him for a moment or two, but gasped in surprise when she collided with his chest instead. He reached out to grab her wrist, but his fingers slipped across the expanse of her skin, and she landed on her backside with a grunt.

 

Hermione brushed back her curls from her face and glared up at him.

 

"Let's go, Granger." He laughed, offering his hand to her.

 

She reached up to take it, but he pulled it back just as fast when Pansy rounded the corner. Pansy looked between the both of them before shaking her head. 

 

"I can't leave either of you for ten minutes before you're making a mess of something. This is why I wanted a kneazle, at least you can leave those at home." 

 

Hermione stood to her feet and looked around the store. "Did you hear that?" She was almost certain she heard a click of some sort but couldn't find the source of the sound. 

 

"It was probably the sound of your teeth chattering when you fell on your arse," Pansy told her. "Now let's get going before I break my promise to Louisa." 

 

::

 

“What game is this?” Pansy looked at the rectangular pieces of wood with mild interest, picking up piece after piece as if she expected them to do something. When she realized they weren’t charmed, she set them back down on the coffee table with a huff. 

 

“It’s a muggle game,” Louisa smiled as she read the instructions on the back of the red box, “Mum sent it to me in the post last week and I knew you wouldn’t want to play then, but I was thinking--” She looked over at Hermione hopefully, “That now we’d have a reason to bring it out of the box.” 

 

“I want to address the hippogriff in the room,” Pansy said suddenly, “Granger is an adult, which means you can not adopt her, Louisa. I mean it. She has to go home eventually.”

 

Louisa swatted her arm. “I know that, Pansy. I just wanted to try something new for game night. Wasn’t this _your_ idea?” 

 

“Yes,” Pansy seemed to concede, “But, I don’t want you crying over your blocks when they have to go back in the closet.” Pansy drank from her wine glass before setting it down on the carpet next to her. She turned towards Draco and laughed.  “A Malfoy playing with muggle things? Your ancestors are probably rolling in their graves right now.” 

 

"As long as Lucius doesn't find out about this." He said before taking a drink from his glass. 

 

Hermione leaned over and stacked the blocks into a tower. “You have to put them on top of each other,” She told Louisa, “We each take turns taking a block from the tower. If you knock it over you lose.” 

 

“Why do muggles like to bore themselves half to death? Let’s make this more interesting, shall we? Each time you successfully pull one of these little rectangles from the block tower you get to ask a question.  _ Any  _ question.” 

 

“Within reason.” 

 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Granger, within reason. Now let’s get started. I’ll go first.” Pansy rubbed her hands together and reached to pull one of the blocks from the tower. She smiled triumphantly when she did so and turned her head towards Louisa. “Why won’t you let me get a kneazle?” 

 

“Because you don’t want one, Pansy. You just want me to agree to it.” Louisa replied. She reached for a block in the tower and pulled it out. “Why are you such a drunk?”

 

“A lush, dear Louisa, not a drunk,” Draco amended for her, “And...because.” He shrugged. 

 

Louisa pointed her finger at him. “That’s not an answer.”

 

“It can be. Your girlfriend never specified what counted as one and what didn’t.” He turned his head to the side at the sound of pecking. “You have an owl at your window.” He motioned towards the black and gray spotted creature waiting patiently on their window sill. 

 

Pansy groaned and stood to her feet. “No good ones until I come back.” 

 

Draco reached for one of the blocks and cursed when the tower swayed slightly, pushing the piece back into its spot. 

 

“You can’t do that! That’s cheating.” 

 

“You should have explained the rules better, Granger.” He pulled a different block from the tower. He turned to Hermione, his red half lidded eyes boring into her alert ones. She gulped, assuming that whatever was about to come from his mouth was not going to ‘within reason’ as they had decided. ”Why did---”

 

Louisa shushed him by waving her hand through the air. “Wait...Pansy, what’s wrong?” She looked over the couch and saw Pansy waving a prophet through the air. “Where’d you get that from? The Daily Prophet doesn’t come out for a few more hours.”

 

“It’s a special edition. The Daily Prophet, or should I say Cormac Mclaggen, managed to get a picture of the runaway bride.” She turned the prophet around and showed them the cover. “Look familiar?”

 

Hermione nodded mutely. “That’s when Malfoy and I were waiting on you earlier.”

 

“You did a lot more than that according to the picture.”

 

“That’s been doctored.” She looked towards Malfoy for support. “I didn’t...we didn’t..you were there, you would have seen that.” She motioned to the picture of Malfoy kissing her before she fell. 

 

“Hermione has better taste than that, Pansy.” 

 

Draco scoffed. “I’ll have you know--”

 

“Look at the headline.” 

 

“Mystery man revealed.” Hermione read. She took the prophet from Pansy the moment the witch offered it to her, her face turning more and more red with each line she read. 

 

The runaway bride was spotted in a bookstore in Diagon Alley with none other than the heir to the Malfoy fortune. Sources confirm that the two have been seeing each other for years, with secret rendezvous spanning the globe. In the next edition of The Daily Prophet, we hear from shocked neighbors and relatives of both who did not see this development coming.

 

::   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the Jenga box sitting in my close that inspired a bit of this chapter lol. As always, thanks for reading :). 
> 
> In what has Diem been up to news:
> 
> I updated another story I'm writing called Predestined last week if you would like to read that update :).I'm working on the second chapter to Off the Record that will hopefully be up in a week or so!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy x

 

::

 

Pansy used her spoon to stir her morning tea, the utensil clicking against the sides of her teacup as she absently twirled it through her drink. She had been staring out of the kitchen window for what felt like ages to her, waiting and waiting and _waiting_ on Louisa’s owl to make its appearance on the windowsill with the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

 

She had always been quite the gossip hound, and this situation, though it involved her best mate and Granger, felt no different to her. She could pretend to be above it, or provide support in Granger’s time of need, but she had never had that good of a poker face and, besides, this whole thing fell squarely on--

 

“Pansy, quit. You look absolutely mental.” Louisa snapped her fingers in front of Pansy’s face and laughed at the sour look her witch set her in return. Louisa looked towards Draco and Hermione, the former looking slightly amused. “Had she been like that for long?”

 

Hermione tilted her head at Pansy. “You mean smiling to herself?”

 

“I don’t smile.” Pansy sniffed, pulling her spoon from her tea and setting it down on her saucer with a clank.  

 

“Really?” Louisa challenged, “Then what are you doing in that picture of us above the mantle?”

 

“You blackmailed me into that!” Pansy pointed her finger accusingly at Louisa who only rolled her eyes in response. “You threatened to withhold sex if I didn’t show teeth, so what was I supposed to--” Pansy’s eyes flew towards the window at the sound of pecking. “It’s here!”

 

Pansy rushed towards the window and reached out to grab the prophet from Louisa’s owl, cursing out loud when the pesky animal bit her. It took her another moment, and another bite, to pry the prophet from the bird's claws, but once she had it in her hands, she quickly unrolled it and searched the front page for the information she had been waiting for all morning long.

 

“We all talked about this last night, Pansy. No one here cares about whatever lies the prophet is printing.” Louisa reminded her.

 

“That conversation must have been had after I retired for the evening because I simply don’t recall having it.” She murmured defiantly, leaning against the counter as she started to read the prophet. She laughed gleefully for only a few moments before stopping abruptly. “Are they bloody kidding me?” She cursed when she got to the end.

 

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

 

Pansy turned the prophet around and pointed at the edge of one of the pictures. “Do you see this?”

 

Draco squinted at the picture. “Your finger is in the way, but that looks a lot like you.”

 

“That _is_ me. This was when you two were doing Merlin knows what in the middle of the aisle and I walked in on it. You both get to have your names under the picture, but they credited me as an unknown patron.” She threw one of her hands in the air. ”I am anything but unknown,” Pansy griped, “Look at what you’ve done, Granger. Didn’t I tell you to let that McLaggen prat down easily when you had the chance? Now we all have to suffer the fury of a wizard scorned.”

 

Louisa snatched the prophet from Pansy.

 

“I thought you weren’t interested?” Pansy sang mockingly.

 

“That was before the prophet got on your bad side.” Louisa grinned. She held the prophet up to the light, turning her head as if she were inspecting it.  “I think I’ll have it framed.”

 

Hermione leaned over Louisa’s shoulder and read the article. Her eyes widened when she got to the end, and she immediately stood up from her chair.

 

“Where are you going?” Pansy asked.

 

“I’m going to write a letter.”

 

“To?”

 

“Cormac. He needs to know what he’s doing is wrong.”

 

“Granger, don't be boring," Pansy pleaded, "In our eighth year I watched you march up to a professor to air your grievances in front of a crowd of students, and two years later you’re hiding behind an owl and a piece of parchment?"

 

“What would you have me do instead? March up to the Daily Prophet's headquarters and demand to see Cormac in person?”

 

“I wasn’t going to say that, but now that you have I do have to admit that you finally have a good idea for once.” Pansy clapped her hands together. “We’ll all go together. I won’t be there for moral support because there’s absolutely nothing moral about why I’m going, but I’m sure Lou will pat you on the shoulder or something if you need it. Right, Louisa?” She blinked innocently at her girlfriend. 

 

“Ignore her, Hermione. You should do whatever it is you think you should, and just know that I will support you either way.”

 

“See? She wants you to go. Make your choice, Granger.”

 

::

 

“This must be hell.” Pansy lifted the bottom of her robe off of the ground as if germs would attach themselves to it if she allowed it to trail behind her. “Look, Louisa,” She whispered dramatically, sweeping one of her hands over towards a rose printed chintz armchair that was pushed into a crowded corner, “ _Hell_.”

 

“This isn’t a zoo, Pansy. You don't need to comment on everything you see.” Louisa whispered back, smiling politely at a passerby who had, judging by the affronted look on her face, heard every comment Pansy had made thus far.  

 

“Less of a zoo and more of a museum of ancient and tacky artifacts,” She quipped back, “Granger, go get this over with so we can leave.” She said as if she hadn't been the one to goad them into coming in the first place.

 

Hermione walked to the front desk and waited patiently until the wizard behind it turned to look at her. 

 

“Y-y-your the...the runaway bride.” He whispered the last part, looking around the entrance of the Daily Prophet’s headquarters as if he were checking to see if anyone else had noticed. “Are you here for...for Mr. McLaggen? I’ll get him now.”  The wizard behind the desk quickly stood from his feet and entered the office behind him.

 

Pansy gave Hermione a thumbs up. “Your first fan, Granger. You never do forget your first.” She laughed.

 

It only took a moment for the wizard to come back, still looking at Hermione like she was a celebrity he had spotted.

 

“Mr. McLaggen was about to head to a meeting, but I told him who you were and he says that he will clear his entire schedule for you. I’ll do it for him right now, actually,” He grabbed a parchment and a quill from a nearby cup and started to write frantically. “You can sit, and he’ll be with you in a second, Ms.--”

 

“Granger.” Pansy supplied helpfully after it became clear that McLaggen’s assistant didn’t know her by anything other than the name his boss had given her.

 

“Stop it, Pansy.” Louisa whispered harshly.

 

“ _What_? You’re the one who told me to be nicer.” She hummed in response, leaning over to set her head against Louisa’s shoulder.

 

“Do you want us to go in with you, Hermione?” Louisa asked, “Because I will. I know a hex or two that will put that little bugger in his place.”

 

Pansy shook her head. “No, you’ll stay out here with me. I’m not writing you love letters while you’re in Azkaban.”

 

“I’m---”

 

The door to Cormac’s office opened, and he stepped out, grinning at the lot of them as if he had just won the lottery. His eyes focused in on Hermione and she felt her skin crawl in the same way it had when they all went to school together.

 

“I knew you’d come.” He wet his lips as he took as step closer to them. “And you brought yourself a little friend.” He looked at Draco with irritation. “You can leave him outside with the others, Hermione.”

 

Draco surprised Hermione by standing up.

 

“I’ll come in with her if you don’t mind, McLaggen.”

 

Cormac pushed his tongue into his cheek. “Of course not. Let’s go then.” He nodded his head to the open door behind him, and both Draco and Hermione followed him into his office, the latter jumping as the door closed loudly behind them.

 

“Sit, sit.” Cormac waved to the chairs across from his desk. More rose printed chintz armchairs, Hermione noted. “Firstly,” He started, dipping his quill into the inkwell on his desk, “I want to thank you both for coming to give me an exclusive look into your lives together.”

 

“We’re not together.” Hermione ground out.

 

“Oh?” Cormac pretended to be surprised. He set his quill down and laced his fingers together. “Do tell me more.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “You started that rumor, Cormac.”

 

“No, I printed it, love. I didn’t start it,” He assured her, “Regardless, this is all good news. While I always hoped you would come to your senses and find someone who suited you better than your previous fiancé, I didn’t know what to think when I heard you had gotten yourself tangled up with someone..unsavory.” He smiled tightly at Draco.

 

Hermione saw Draco tense in the chair beside her and knew that this meeting was going to be a short one.

 

“You’re playing with my life, Cormac. You can’t just print whatever lies you’ve bought from fake sources to sell a few papers.”

 

“I disagree with your contention that my sources are fake or that I’ve bought anything. That would not be legal, and I assure you that everything we do at the Daily Prophet is by the books.” He pointed behind him to a picture of him receiving some sort of award from Rita Skeeter. “I will say that if sources come to me with information, then I am free to print it at my discretion. My only obligation is to keeping this paper open, and I think I've done a good job so far. After all, my name is still on the outside of that door.”

 

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “So you’ve sold your integrity for Skeeter’s old office and don’t care who you have to hurt in order to keep it? You’re no better than your predecessor, and you should ask her what happened when she crossed me one too many times,” Hermione spat out, “And it’s sad that you haven’t grown up at all, Cormac. I honestly thought you might have after all this time...that I could come in here and we could just talk it all out, but it’s clear that you are still the overzealous and egotistical prat you always were.”  

 

Cormac swayed in his seat. “What exactly do you want from me?”

 

“Print a retraction.” Draco demanded before Hermione could.

 

“Or?” Cormac stared at him steadily.

 

“I don’t know about a Granger, but I do know that it would be wise to not make an enemy out of a Malfoy, McLaggen, and you're dangerously close already.” Draco stared back at him until he broke and looked away.

 

Cormac shuffled through piles of parchment on his desk before setting them down with a huff. They had upset him, and it was obvious by the way he shook his head and muttered to himself.

 

“Leave. Both of you.” Cormac ordered.

 

Hermione didn’t waste any time in getting up from her chair, and neither did Draco, but she did leave the room faster than he did. 

 

“It would be wise of you to remember what was said here, McLaggen.”  Draco said over his shoulder before walking out.

 

“Do you think they’ll put our faces on the wall to make sure we’re not allowed in anymore? Like common thieves?” Pansy asked, filling the quiet that had fallen over the four of them as they walked out of the main doors of the Daily Prophet’s Headquarters. “I do hope so,” She said, answering her own question. “That place gave me hives.”

 

::

 

Hermione wrapped a towel around her dripping hair and then adjusted her oversized Harpies sweatshirt, stretching and pulling the fabric until it sat on her shoulders the way she liked. She had gotten it after Angelina made the team a few years ago. George, as proud as he had been, gifted the entire family sweatshirts with his wife’s face on the front and number on the back. They wore it to every game even when Angelina begged them not to. It had become a Weasley family tradition.

 

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror and smiled sadly before brushing one of her hands against the light switch and closing the washroom door behind her. She trailed down the stairs and to the first floor, poking her head into every room to see if she could find Pansy or Louisa. The latter would probably be more likely to offer her the comfort she needed tonight, but neither seemed to be around.

 

When she rounded the corner to the living room, she saw Draco sitting there by himself. He was throwing a bottle cap in the air with one hand and using the other to catch it before it could hit the ground.

 

She didn’t know if she should stay or go.

 

“Are you trying to make yourself ornamental, Granger, or do you plan on taking a seat?” He asked, not bothering to look over his shoulder at her. “You’re about as quiet as an elephant; I heard you before you even made it down the stairs.” He told her as if he had read her mind.

 

“The third step squeaks,” Hermione said in her defense, not missing the way the corner of his lips twitched when he finally turned to face her. “I should say thank you for earlier. You didn’t have to come in with me, but you did, so thank you.”

 

It didn’t escape her how ridiculous she must look in front of him in an old Quidditch shirt and with the towel wrapped around her hair, but he didn’t tease her even though she knew the thought must have crossed his mind. He only nodded his head at her expression of gratitude before pursing his lips as if he were thinking.

 

“My only regret is that I didn’t punch that McLaggen prat in the jaw. I’ve been waiting for years now, and I finally had the opportunity, and I let it slip through my fingers.” He ran a hand through his hair and laughed.

 

“Maybe next time.” Hermione was rewarded with another laugh, and she smiled awkwardly at the sound of it.

 

He reached for a bottle on the coffee table and uncapped it, stretching out an arm to offer it to her.

 

“Are you responsible for all of these?” She asked after taking the bottle from him. She sat on the other end of the sofa, folding one of her legs underneath her body.  

 

“Do you think I’d be conscious if I were?” He waited until she shook her head. “We have Louisa and Pansy, _mostly_ Pansy, to thank for the empty ones. This is my first.”

 

“They’re sleeping it off?” That would explain why she couldn't find them.

 

He laughed again. “More like dancing it off. They left for Diagon Alley a while ago.”

 

They then fell into an awkward silence, neither having much to say to the other. After a while, she leaned against the back of the sofa and looked over at him. 

 

“Why are you still here?”

 

“I don’t dance.”

 

“No, I mean, why are you... _here_?” She ran her arm around the space around them. “Why have you been staying with Pansy?”

 

“Why are you?”

 

“You know why I’m here.”

 

“I don’t. You could have chosen one of the many Weasley or Weasley affiliated flats to stay in, but you chose Pansy’s. Why?”

 

“Because Pansy is Pansy.” Hermione said as if that made any sense at all. It did to her at least. “She's selfish and abrasive, and she’s always been trying to teach me how to be a little more like her, and I think, oddly enough, that’s something that I need. It’s something that I’ve always admired her for..putting herself first and knowing what she wants and not being ashamed to do whatever it is even if everyone else thinks she should be living up to an expectation or expectations.”

 

She paused, bringing her bottle to her lips and taking a deep swig from it before setting it down on one of her thighs.

 

“She’s always been Pansy before she’s been a Parkinson or anything else someone might try and reduce her to, you know? And I guess...I guess I was afraid of being reduced down to something that I didn’t want to be anymore, so I left.”

 

Hermione let out a deep breath when she finished, blushing slightly when she realized she might have said too much.

 

“But that’s not what you asked. You asked why I’m here and--"

 

“You answered the question well enough, Granger,” He told her before she could finish, “I’m here for the same reason. Don’t tell her I think I might learn something from her; she might contact McLaggen to get a piece written about it in the Prophet.”

 

“Secret for a secret then?” She held out her bottle, and he clinked his against hers with a smile she had only seen him direct at Pansy and Louisa.

 

“Secret for a secret.” Draco repeated. He set his feet against the coffee table and stretched his arms above his head, miraculously not spilling a single drop of his beer as he did so. “Got any more of them?”

 

She nodded her head. “Just one. You might not be so bad after all, Malfoy.”

 

“Don’t get any ideas in your head, Granger. What did you tell my mother about me on graduation night?” He looked at her. “Marched right up to her and told her I was an insufferable prat if memory serves me correctly.”

 

“You deserved it," She grinned at the memory, "But the best part was that she agreed.”

 

“You stormed away before she could disagree, that hardly counts,” He countered, “Speaking of my dear mother, I am going to need your help clearing up McLaggen’s mess with her. I called her through the floo while you were upstairs and she mentioned that she would like to have a word or two with you.”

 

Hermione paled immediately. 

 

She could only imagine what kind of word Narcissa Malfoy would want to have with her now that the prophets had dragged her son through the mud. They were probably on the unforgivables list.

 

“Did you tell her the prophets have been running nothing but lies?”

 

He nodded his head.

 

“And that we aren’t and have never had any sort of affair.”

 

He nodded again.

 

“Then why would she ever bother herself with me of all people?”

 

“Because I haven’t always been honest with her in the past and she’s not sure that I’m doing so now,” He admitted, “I think she’s concerned, my father probably more so, that I’ve run off with someone without her approval. I need you to convince her that I haven’t.”

 

Before Hermione could find her answer, the front door swung open and a rather inebriated Pansy stepped through it, Louisa not far behind her.

 

“What’s this?” Pansy asked, “Are you two…. _bonding_?” She wagged her finger through the air. “No! Absolutely not. Up, both of you up!” She looked over her shoulder at Louisa. “This would have never have happened with a kneazle because they’re solitary creatures and they like to be alone. They like to be alone.” She said, suddenly becoming emotional.

 

“I told her not to try that new drink at the pub, but did she listen? No. Now look at her, crying over a kneazle.” Louisa pinched the bridge of her nose. “More material to add to the blackmail bank, my dear.” She squeezed Pansy’s shoulder and then reached down to swat her on her bum. “Now up to bed and I’ll be there in a second.”

 

Pansy shook her head stubbornly. “I won’t go if he stays. I don’t know when everyone in this flat decided to become best mates, but you lot aren’t going to band together behind my back. Let’s go, Draco, up.”

 

“He’s not sleeping in our bed, Pansy.” Louisa laughed.

 

“I know, it’s not eighth year anymore.”

 

Draco stood up immediately, holding both palms up as if to quell Louisa who had started to look between the pair of them suspiciously.

 

“I’ll put her to bed. I mean, I’ll make sure that she goes in her room, that is,” He promised, “That’s enough talking from you tonight, Pansy.” He tugged on her arm and dragged her up the stairs.

 

“What was going on between you and Draco before we got here?”

 

“Sharing a drink, nothing more.” 

 

“Just making sure. I wanted to know if I should spray down the sofa or just burn it all together.” Louisa smiled apologetically the moment the words came from her mouth. “Sorry, Pansy is obviously rubbing off on me.” She sighed.

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

Louisa pointed at Hermione’s shirt. “You a fan of the Harpies?”

 

“Kind of.” Hermione said, “I’ve known Angelina, their keeper, for years now.”

 

“Then would you want to go to a game soon? My birthday is coming up, and Pansy got us tickets to see it. I’m sure I could squeeze out a few more from her.”

 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

 

Honestly, Hermione didn’t know if she would be welcome at the pitch. She was sure the game would be attended by every Weasley that could make it, and she doubted they would be excited to see her there.

 

Louisa seemed disappointed but gave her a smile regardless. “Consider this a standing invite then.”

 

“Thanks, Lou,” Hermione smiled back, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Hermione wandered up the stairs and down the hall that led to her room. She had almost passed an open door before she stopped, turning her head back to the noise she had sworn she just heard.

 

“Granger.” She heard again.

 

She walked backwards a few steps and peered into the open door. Draco was pulling off the shirt he had been wearing downstairs and rummaging through a dresser for what Hermione could only assume to be a night shirt.

 

“I heard you and Louisa downstairs.” He gave up trying to find a nightshirt and just stood there. “Want me to be honest with you?”

 

Hermione stared into his eyes because, honestly, she didn’t want them to trail down any further and be accused of trying to take a look.

 

“If you left Weasley the way the prophets claim you did then that was awful. I hate that prick and even I can admit that,” He said, “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t do the right thing for yourself. And that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to show your face in public anymore. Sod the papers. Sod the expectations, right?"

 

Hermione inhaled deeply and nodded her head.

 

Was he right?

 

Hermione wasn’t sure. She still held a great deal of guilt about everything that had happened, and couldn’t figure out from one day to the next if she should be apologizing to everyone, groveling at their feet, or simply moving on. The latter was scary for her for reasons she hadn’t looked into yet.

 

“Pansy is really rubbing off on all of us, isn’t she?”

 

“Secret?”

 

“Secret.” Hermione lingered another moment outside of his door before walking down the hall to hers, a smile tugging at her lips as she closed the door behind her.

 

::

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Let me know what you think?


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